


to prove a negative

by ndnickerson



Series: runaway AU [2]
Category: Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-01
Updated: 2011-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-22 01:51:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nancy and Ned talk over a sunset.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to prove a negative

**Author's Note:**

> lottery 2, prompt 12: a sunset, at story_lottery on LJ. Mild language warning.

"Is there anywhere we can go around here that we'd be alone?"

Nancy glanced at Ned's profile, glad he wasn't looking at her; a faint blush was prickling in her cheeks, she could feel it. "I think there's a place to park up at Flanders Field; at least, that's what I've heard. My boyfriend can't really drive alone yet." Not that that hadn't stopped him from suggesting it.

Ned was quiet for a minute. "We might be alone there, but I think we'd get noticed."

Nancy glanced around at the lush interior of the Ferrari and made a face. "Yeah. Sorry. There's the old railroad station near the river?"

"Long as you think we won't get mugged."

"Don't tell me you're afraid."

"As much shit as I've had to put up with in this car..."

Ned trailed off, negotiating a turn, and Nancy's head whipped toward him in shock. It wasn't that she hadn't heard the word before. She just wasn't that used to hearing it from people she'd just met.

"If you're so worried, I bet you probably know somewhere in Mapleton."

He glanced over at her, amused. "First it's 'Daddy won't let me ride with strangers,' and now it's 'Let's go to Mapleton'?"

An echo of her bad mood came back. "If you're going to be like that, you can take the next right and we'll be back at my house in about a mile."

Ned shook his head. "I'm sorry. I am sorry. I guess I'm a little on edge."

"I am too." Nancy suddenly remembered that Don was expecting her for their date, and her hand tightened on her purse strap. "I can't be out too late."

"Curfew?" His voice wasn't quite so sharp as it had been, and she let it pass.

"Date."

He nodded. "Yeah. Of course. Cartwright?"

"The quarterback?" Nancy let out a sharp chuckle. "No, Shanna has him all sewn up. I'm with Don Cameron."

Ned raised an eyebrow. "Huh."

"What, you think he's not good enough for me?"

"Apparently you do."

Nancy whipped around to glare at him again, but he didn't take the bait; he was following the river road by the tracks.

She didn't think Don wasn't good enough for her. How dare he even say that.

She didn't.

"Can we start over?"

Nancy's cheeks were burning in the fading light. "Couldn't be any worse."

He shifted into a lower gear and stuck out his hand, glancing over to lock his gaze with her for a second. "Ned Nickerson."

It wasn't like she didn't already know, but her heart sank a little anyway on hearing his name. "Nancy Drew," she said, shaking his hand firmly. "And you didn't want to go ahead and start on whatever you need my help with? Do you need your hands free for visual aids?"

Ned pulled into the old train station's gravel parking lot. The side of the building was spray painted, but with the usual juvenilia; Mark loved Chrissy and Brian loved Candace, surrounded by sloppy five-pointed stars and uneven hearts. Ned parked facing the lot's exit and the river road, and the Muskoka drifted lazily by, the wind-carved ripples in its surface catching pools of brilliant orange and blinding yellow-white. Everything else was gloom in comparison, their skin gone ashen and grey. But his eyes glimmered, and again she felt the same spark simmering when her gaze met his.

 _He's the son of a mobster._

 _You don't know that._

Her father had often told her not to judge by appearances or gossip, but this wasn't either of those, really. Even so, she couldn't quite explain it; she _wanted_ to believe whatever he was about to tell her, wanted to believe that he really was a good person.

Even though they were in a Ferrari. And he had cursed.

And, she had to admit, she kind of wanted to know what it would feel like, if he did make a move on her. He was so confident, but it had an aggressive, almost hyper-defensive edge. Not that she'd expect anything less, if even half the rumors were true.

Ned unfastened his seatbelt and Nancy raised her eyebrows as he slid out of the car. She fumbled with her own belt as he came around to her side and opened her door, and wordlessly she followed him to a weatherbeaten bench still standing by the cracked glass at the front of the station house. He sat easily beside her, bent forward, elbows on his upper thighs and his hands clasped. Nancy smoothed her skirt under her and straightened the pleats over her thighs. She knew she should have changed after the car wash, but she'd thought they were going straight home; the damp patches in her uniform were cooling by the second, in the hush of the sunset.

"I need you to help me clear my father."

When he showed absolutely no inclination to turn his face toward hers, Nancy let her gaze rest on his face. "Of what exactly," she said softly.

Ned snorted. "What do you think."

"I think it's easier if you tell me. I'm not here to judge you."

Ned dropped his chin. "Everyone else has," he muttered.

She let him alone for a while, then patted his shoulder. "It's okay."

Ned shook his head, and she let her hand drop. His shoulder was warm through his shirt. "Coach made me first-string quarterback today. It's all going to happen again. All over again."

Nancy brought one leg up and hugged her knee to her chest, the bench squeaking in protest. Her damp socks were clinging to her ankles. If she caught a cold for this, Hannah would never stop saying she'd told her so. "Why don't you start at the beginning, Ned."

He glanced over at her, the last of the dying light reflected in his eyes, and saw her shivering. "God, I'm sorry. Let me get you my jacket."

"You don't..." Nancy began, but he was gone, leaving her alone on the bench.

She wasn't sure exactly what George would say about this. She knew what George never stopped saying about Don, but when Ned came back, his face hard as he looked down at the Mapleton letterman's jacket in his hands before draping it over her shoulders, all George's feminist disdain over being treated like a weak, soft girl dissipated. Maybe because Don, in the same situation, would be trying to find some excuse to touch her, and Ned only looked angry.

"They started keying my car after practice. All of them. Even the ones I was friends with before."

Ned steepled his fingers and Nancy slid her arms into the jacket's leather sleeves, craning her neck to see his car in the fast-receding light. The paint still looked uniformly pristine.

Ned was looking at her when she glanced back at him. "Oh, Dad got it buffed out. Every time."

"Distributor cap? Sugar in the tank?"

Ned nodded, appreciation lighting in his eyes. She shrugged and didn't bother explaining that her father's favorite activity, on the rare free weekend afternoon, was watching old detective movies with her and explaining exactly what gats and powders and dames were. She'd been behind the wheel all of two minutes in her life but she was already planning to check for slashed tires every time she approached her car. Her father provoked that kind of ire in people, and she had no doubt she'd follow in his footsteps.

"Distributor cap, yeah. The gas cap locks, though."

Nancy pulled the coat a little closer around her. "Your dad had to know that that car's... super conspicuous. So that's what you wanted?"

Ned snorted again. "You know what I really wanted? A Corvette. Red. But now, what I really want is the most beat-up rusted-out piece of shit possible. Like everyone else. I just want to be like everyone else."

 _But you're not._ He really wasn't. He wasn't like anyone she'd ever met, and the closest comparisons failed; he had an air about him that she'd only seen her father carry, some of her father's more successful and more handsome friends, the ones who smoked cigars and laughed over their highballs at the poker table. Seeing it in someone so close to her own age frightened her, for a reason she couldn't quite put in words.

And Don... was very much like everyone else.

She didn't want Ned to be that way, but Ned would never be that way, even if he didn't have the Ferrari or the letter jacket or the chiseled, clean-shaven jaw. Even if Nancy took her cheerleading uniform off, she would still be her father's daughter, still wouldn't be able to keep herself from investigating or poking her nose in where other people definitely didn't want it.

And he'd still be his father's son.

"Start at the beginning."

The moon hadn't yet risen, and the sole aged streetlight cast a pale glow over his features, the indistinct globe's reflection caught in the slow swell and push of the river below. "I don't want to prejudice you against him."

"Do you want me to find out the truth, or do you want me to prove that your father is clean in all this?" She shrugged in the direction of the car behind them. "Despite the evidence."

He could only hold her gaze for a second before it dropped, but she saw his resignation there. She was pretty sure her father would call it circumstantial but damning. A Ferrari, especially a new one, didn't jive with the image of a respectable insurance salesman.

"Because I can do my best to find out the truth, but that's not the same as telling you what you want to hear."

"He's a good person, Nancy. He is. He really is. Maybe he got caught up in something, but he's not like this at heart. He... he always made time for me. Taught me to ride my bike, how to play catch. He comes to all my games."

She knew what her father would say—

And that didn't matter; it only mattered what she would say, and the rote answer was meaningless, and the honest answer was too much. Loving his son didn't mean he wasn't what everyone thought he was.

But that didn't matter, because that wasn't what he wanted to hear. Maybe later, but not tonight.

Instead, Nancy wrapped an arm around his shoulders and tilted her head against one. "It's been hard, hasn't it."

He didn't say anything. "I want you to find out the truth," he finally murmured. "Because the truth is that he's a good person and everyone has judged him for this, and... they used to love me. Before that damn article in the Morning Record. Before everything turned to shit. I'm gonna be sitting alone in the cafeteria. I'm going to find shit written on my locker and no one will sit next to me on the team bus and I'll be lucky if I can get through one game as quarterback without having someone 'accidentally' trip me. I don't want it happening all over again. And I want you to help."

She smiled. "Well, you won't be sitting alone in the cafeteria. I can at least help you with that."

"Yeah, you say that now, but I'm sure Cameron will mind."

 _Don._ Nancy's heart lurched when she remembered the date she was probably half an hour from missing. "He'll get over it."

Ned chuckled. "I wouldn't be too sure."

"Why?"

"Because if you were my girlfriend, I wouldn't get over it."

Nancy made a face. "Then you're a male chauvinist pig," she told the air, to help her ignore the butterflies that had suddenly filled her stomach.

He laughed even louder. "Good thing I'm not your boyfriend, then."

"You've got that right, mister." Nancy pulled back, snuggling deeper into his coat. "Now take me home. I have a date tonight."

He stood and offered her his arm, which she pointedly ignored. "Bet he doesn't have one of those."

Nancy glanced at the Ferrari. "He doesn't. But you can't have it both ways. You can't hate that car in one breath and brag about it the next."

Ned shrugged, unlocking her door for her. "It's a great car," he said. "I can't deny that."

They were halfway back to her house before they spoke again, once the tentatively companionable silence had begun to fade. "So how are we going to explain my being around you? I mean, how far do you want me to go with this?"

Ned shot a glance at her. "I thought we'd say we're partners on a term science project."

"History would probably be better. Otherwise we'll have to come up with a papier mache volcano or something."

"See? You're already being smart."

Nancy caught herself before she playfully smacked his arm. "And you really think that he keeps evidence in the house."

He glanced at her again, more sharply this time. "There won't be any evidence."

"It's really hard to prove a negative, Ned. I mean, what do you want me to do? Get someone to go over his financial records?"

"Can you do that?"

Nancy sighed and shrugged out of his coat. "Maybe if you got back to me in five years," she said, exasperated, and Ned's face softened into a smile.

"I'm sorry. It's hard... to be an outcast."

"It must be. To have that and lose it."

Nancy motioned for the next turn and Ned took it. "There's no way you know how it feels," he said, and she caught his expression in the fleeting glare of a streetlight.

"I've never had it to lose."

"Bullshit."

That sudden sharp awareness of him prickled over her skin again. "Those girls you see around me? Aren't with me, really. I've known Bess and George since we were in preschool and they are my best friends, but I'm not homecoming queen, not head cheerleader. I'm just the girl who solves problems." She looked out the window.

"Just give it time."

Nancy turned to look at him, her blood so high her mouth was shaking a little. She couldn't deny it; part of her wanted what he'd always seen as his birthright, due him for his looks and charm and easy grace, part of her wanted the elaborate expensive dresses her father would never begrudge her and the admiration glowing in the eyes of her classmates, the bouquet, the ribbons, the crown. And part of her wanted anything but the spotlight, anything that would keep her from her mysteries.

Maybe because the glow after she solved a case was better than a hundred crowns or a thousand admiring glances, for that distilled awe and gratitude. Nothing had ever touched that.

Nancy unclenched her fist and let it go.

Ned brought the car to a slow stop in front of her house, his eyes wide as he took it all in. "Wow. You have a really nice house."

"Thanks." She bent over for her bag and was just opening her mouth to thank him for the ride when he slid out of the car, and she was suddenly panicked that Don was waiting for her, that he'd see, that Ned getting out of the car to open her door for her was some sort of unforgivable trespass, when obviously it wasn't.

She raised an eyebrow at him as he stood there, and he shrugged. "Habit. It just feels like the kind of car for that, doesn't it?"

She chuckled and let him take her hand to help her out of the car. "Walk me to the door?" she asked, batting her eyelashes at him outlandishly. "It's a dark night."

"Dark as an old train station," he said wryly, and she didn't tuck her arm through his, and their hands didn't touch, all the way up the walk, to the golden glow of the front porch.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and slowed his steps, and she turned to look at him. "Look, thanks... for this. For doing this for me."

Nancy smiled and nodded a little, suddenly shy. "So... I'll see you in the cafeteria tomorrow."

He dipped his head. "That sounds good. And we can talk some more then."

Nancy turned toward the door, then turned back. "And... George, she means well."

Ned chuckled. "I'll try to remember that."

"Good night, Ned."

"Good night."

When Nancy walked in, she kept her steps slow and small, resisting the urge to watch the fading glow of the Ferrari's taillights out into the distance. The look on Hannah's face was nakedly curious as she looked around the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Don's called three times. Bess has called four. And she sounded hyper. What's going on?"

"Nothing," Nancy said slowly, lightly. "I... have a new case."

"Something about the movies?"

Nancy shrugged and the duffel dropped from her shoulder, onto the floor, and she barely felt it. "Not tonight," she said, and started for the steps in a daze.

"Nan? Are you all right?"

She gave Hannah a faint half-smile. "Yeah," she said, a little louder. "Yeah. I'm great."

When she shut the door of her room she could still smell the faint trace of his cologne, still clinging to her skin from the contact with his coat.

She closed her eyes and breathed it in.


End file.
